


Christmas Reunion

by Shes-claws-deep (CyrilOdahviing)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Reunion Fic, can be read as a platonic fic, christmas fics, idk - Freeform, really slight romance at the end between bumblebee and reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17169041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyrilOdahviing/pseuds/Shes-claws-deep
Summary: Thirty years on from the events of 1987, Bumblebee still misses his first Earth friend. In this time of giving, family, and love, you decide to give him the best (and perhaps first) Christmas on Earth. A reunion.





	Christmas Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Not Bumblebee/Charlie. She's married with kids and her husband is-

“Do you want to go visit her?”

Bumblebee jumps to his feet with a cry, his hands flying to his chest and his head snapping down to see you staring up at him with an amused little smile on your face.

“Visit…who?” The radio crackles as it switches channels.

You nod to the well-worn picture he has in his huge hand. “That girl there. That was from when you first fell, right?”

The scout looks down at the picture, his finger tracing across the girl’s face gently. “She…was…my first friend.” The yellow beetle in the corner looked worn and in disrepair, a sign of the state he was in when he first arrived. “She saved me.”

“I know,” you murmur, stepping close so you can tug his hand down, carefully examining the photo and the date stamped in the corner. “1987. That’s uh, that’s a while ago, hey?”

A sad trill. He sags a little and crouches down again, his antennae falling flat against his helm and his optics turning downcast. Like this, he looks like a kicked puppy, those baby blues casting a soft light upon the old picture. The radio crackles to life once more, the old thing spitting out a record so old that you haven’t heard it in ages.

_O, my love, my darling  
I’ve hungered for your touch  
A long lonely time  
Times goes by so slowly  
And time can do so much_

You smile, leaning against his leg and peering at the photo. “She has good taste.”

Bumblebee whirrs and nods, the radio spinning once more to play some of the classics she showed him. For a good hour, you sit with him, singing along and dancing when certain beats urge him to move his body to the tune. The clanging and stomping draw a certain pair of twins who eagerly join in, showing off their jet judo skills as they do. Bumblebee, refusing to be outclassed, keeps jamming, his doorwings fluttering with his every move.

It’s adorable to see him expressing joy over the memory of his old friend instead of sadness like before. The picture rests safely in your hands as the soldiers dance the night away, and it is then that an idea hits you.

 

“Where…are we…going?” The radio dial twists and turns of its own volition as you drive Bumblebee down winding mountain roads.

“Oh, just a little joyride,” you reply with a secretive smile. “Don’t worry, I asked the Commander for permission.”

The scout chirps curiously, prodding you for answers and guessing when you still refuse to tell. After a while he stops asking, but then starts to poke you. Just a little bit.

The seats move back and forth. The seatbelt tightens and loosens. The gearstick switches positions whenever you go to change gears. The air vents shifting and blowing hot and cold air in your face. It should be annoying rather than funny but you can’t help but snort and let him disturb you as much as he likes. Anything to distract him from where you’re bringing him.

Also, he’s your backup driver if his antics do distract you from the road.

It takes the better part of a day to get where you need to be and by the time you do get there, night has fallen. The stars twinkle merrily above you, cold beacons of light that frame the pretty town below the dark sky.

“It’s beautiful~” A woman croons out from the radio, Bumblebee’s wondrous whirr following behind it.

“It is, isn’t it?” You smile and head into town, pulling down into a suburb filled with little apartments and houses.

329.

331.

333.

335- Ah, here you are.

You stop at the curb, getting out. “Wait here for a minute, okay?”

“Roger that.” You can almost imagine Bumblebee’s signature salute – a fist pump high into the air. It makes you smile. Well, that and the thought of how he might react in a couple of minutes.

The little apartment block is clean and well maintained if perhaps a little old, but you’re not here for the building. You’re here for who’s in it. Up one flight of stairs. Another. Then you knock on a door.

“Just a moment!”

Shuffling. Thumps. Then a “Shhh honey, go into your room. Mommy will be back soon, okay?” A pause, then the door cracks open just a little. “Can I help you, miss?” A pair of sweet, dark eyes peep out from the crack of the door.

You smile reassuringly, easing out of your military posture to flash her a picture on your phone.

Utter silence. The woman’s jaw drops and her wide-eyed gaze flits up to yours. Then she sets her jaw and nods. “One moment.” The door is shut, chains undone, and she opens the door wide to let you in. “Come on in.”

“Thank you.” You nod at her, wiping your shoes and staying in the entryway as she checks the bedroom doors and calls her husband to her side. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything, ma’am.”

“Oh no!” She shakes her head, dark curls falling around her pretty face as she comes back around the corner. “It’s fine. Just putting the kids away after dinner is all.”

It’s then that her husband pops his head out of the kitchen to join her, his poofy hair appearing before his kind face does. “A drink for you, miss?”

Shaking your head, you reiterate that you’ll only take a moment.

The woman and her husband exchange a knowing glance and he steps out of the kitchen, still wiping his hands with his apron. She takes a deep breath and lets it out, opening her mouth to start speaking when you cut her off with a gentle hand.

“I don’t think I know your name, miss, but I probably shouldn’t know either. I just wanted to know if you are indeed the young lady in this photo.” You wave the phone, the picture of a picture still displayed. “If so, I have someone you should meet.” That sounds bad. “Uh, I mean, not the military. I am from the military but the ‘someone’ isn’t the military.”

Both woman and man crack a smile. “You’re cute,” the woman comments, her eyes tearing up a little as she takes the phone gingerly from you. “Where did you find this photo?”

Doffing your knuckles on your chest, you quip, “Thank you. I think I’m cute too.” Then, falling back into seriousness, you lean forward and gesture for the phone back. “I got it off a little bee. They carry a lot more than just pollen, you know?”

Her hands immediately fly up to cup her mouth, her throat bobbing as though struggling to swallow, and her husband presses his solid form up against her – a solid pillar for her to lean on. “Is-please, if you’re lying-”

“I’m not.”

She chokes out a wet laugh, bending over ever so gradually, chanting ‘oh my god’ under her breath. As though gathering herself together, she pulls herself up and squares her shoulders. “Please, can you-” Then something hits her and she looks at the closed doors to her children’s’ rooms.

Her husband pipes up then, soft eyes also filling up with tears and his hair bobbing as he jerks his head in the direction of the rooms. “I’ll take care of them, babe. You go see him.”

“I won’t make you take long, ma’am,” you chime in.

“Thank you.” Her voice is wheezy and thin but her body stands firm as you usher her out.

Your voice is quiet as you descend down the flights of stairs. “We’ll have to drive out to a quieter area. He isn’t outlawed here but…just in case.”

She smiles wetly and nods in agreement, still too choked up to speak properly. However, when you lead her out to the pavement, she freezes and sways a little. You grasp her gently, guiding her into the passenger seat and getting into the driver’s side yourself.

Beneath you, you can feel Bumblebee still, his radio falling silent after playing some silly songs for himself. You can feel him relinquish all control to you as he keeps his attention on the woman in his passenger seat. He doesn’t even pay attention to where you’re going, only that you drive him into a secluded area of the nearby park, only that you get out and give him the all-clear signal after fiddling with your jammer pack. Only that the woman in his seat is crying softly as he transforms before her.

Bumblebee kneels, his polished armour gleaming in the light of the streetlamps, the scratches and scars coming into stark relief, his new form alien and familiar at the same time. The woman wipes away her tears roughly, laughing as she launches herself into his arms. “‘Bee!”

“Hello again…Charlie.”

You smile, tears also building in your eyes as you watch their heartfelt reunion after thirty years. Turning away, you ready yourself to do a patrol of the area just in case someone stumbles upon the lot of you. As you do, though, your radio crackles and a scratchy voice comes through and a big smile cracks across your face.

“Thank you, my love.”

Turning around, you wink at the bot who is gazing at you with wide, baby blue optics, and mouth, “Happy Christmas, Bumblebee.”


End file.
